Weasley & Malfoy
by Loony-1995
Summary: Two of the top aurors, Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy, are framed for murder and are sent to a new wizard prison. If they want to stay alive, they have to escape and prove their innocence. But that means they'll have to work together. Something neither wants to do. Slightly inspired by Tango & Cash
1. Letters

Ron yawned and stretched with his back clicking as he did so. He looked up to the nearest clock and gave a weary smile; it was nearly time to go home. He couldn't be bothered to do any more paperwork and there was no one left in the auror station, just a few fading lights flickering. He tossed his quill down and waved Harry goodbye as the head auror came out of his office.

'You any closer to clearing up that Dawson murder?'

'Sort of, we think we might have it linked with the Mythe crime family but when it comes to them you've got to have spell-tight evidence.'

'Well, if you need help, just say Ron. I may be your boss but I'm also your best friend,' he bid his friend goodbye and left the office.

Ron knew he would do nothing like what Harry had suggested; he had become an auror because he wanted to make a name for himself and do things without Harry but so far he hadn't been able to. He was a good detective but every time he cracked a case, Harry would end up getting the credit whether it was intentional or accidental, Ron couldn't tell anymore. And if he did get some press for it, colleagues would say it was because he was best friends with Harry and when he had recently got his promotion out of uniform and a 'detective' title, they all said it was because of Harry.

Ron needed to prove himself and fast.

Just as he stood up to leave, a black owl screeched in and perch itself on his desk, a blood-red letter in its claws. Urgent.

He quickly took the letter and tore it open and as soon as the letter left its claws, the owl soared off into the office's shadows.

The handwriting was messy but, due to his own, Ron understood perfectly.

_Mr Weasley,  
As you are the one in charge of the Dawson murder, I knew I must contact you.  
I have valuable information about this and its connections to the Mythe family, evidence that is irrefutable. It is vitally important that we meet tonight as I need to tell you this in person; it is too dangerous to be written by owl. Meet me at 101 Farthing Lane, Bowden at midnight._

The letter did not say who had written it but Ron knew he had to go.  
In his subconscious, Ron realised that if this person could not owl their information then why did they specify who it concerned? His conscious self, in its joy that it could prove its worth, did not criticise the letter at all.

He knew Farthing Lane contained disused muggle buildings and it was regularly used by the shady individuals of society for all sorts of acts. Thus if you wanted to have a secret meeting, it was the perfect place; nobody would ever concern themselves with your business as long as you didn't concern yourself with theirs.

Ron glanced at the station clock and saw it had just struck half eleven; he just had enough time to prepare.

* * *

Draco Malfoy ran the soft feathers of his quill back and forth over his chin in deep thought. This murder had him stuck. It seemed simple on the surface but it was a nightmare underneath.

McBee, a known petty thief and potions abuser, had been stabbed in a dodgy alleyway at two am just over two weeks ago. No one claimed to have seen anything but knowing the area, they could have been standing opposite it and claimed they knew nothing. Talking to aurors got you into more trouble than not talking did. At first, they had assumed it was potions related but someone had talked and it turned out that McBee had been clean for two months now thus the potions in his system must have been forced in. Someone had been trying to make it look like a potions related death but it was nothing of the sort. Then the Mythe family had risen into the mix and Draco knew then that the case would never be closed. The Mythe family were probably the biggest crime family at work in the organised wizard crime network and it was rumoured that they had even branched out into the muggle underworld but everything to do with them was hearsay and rumours – nothing could _ever _be proved and evidence wouldn't even show a slight connection. Yet it was well known that you did not cross them.

He finally looked up from his pad and out of the huge glass window to his left which looked out onto the main lobby of the auror headquarters.

He watched Harry Potter, head of the auror division, walk past his window and to the buildings doors; they caught eyes but neither acknowledged one another but refused to drop contact. Draco Malfoy may now be an auror, and an excellent one at that, but Harry still refused to accept him as good or trustworthy – Draco sometimes wondered how he had even got an interview. But since Potter was his boss, the last thing he wanted to do was piss him off.

When Harry left the building, Draco looked back down at his notepad full of key facts and pondered some more.

Unexpectedly, a graceful black owl swooped into the office through its open door and landed on a stack of paperwork beside him. His eyes quickly picked up the urgent red letter; he carefully took the note and read it, not noticing the owl's departure.

_Mr Malfoy,  
I know that you are the one in charge of the McBee murder and I know who did it. I was there in the alley that night and I know why they did it as well. If you meet me at 101 Farthing Lane, Bowden at midnight I'll tell you everything._ _Don't be late now._

The writing bothered Draco, he could have sworn he recognised it but in his line of duty you saw a lot of handwriting so he was probably just mistaken. The scrawl was hurried and simply sentenced but being in that alley at the time of the murder meant the person in the know was either a potions abuser or a prostitute. Probably both.

He didn't know this place the writer mentioned so with a flick of his wand a map appeared.

'101 Farthing Lane, Bowden,' he asked; the map glowed green and span twice, a set of empty buildings glowed orange and it plotted out a route from the auror office to his destination. "10 minute walk" appeared in the bottom left-hand corner, Draco flicked his wrist again and it folded itself back up neatly on his desk.

With a glance at his watch, he saw he had less than half an hour to get there.

He needed this break.  
He needed to prove himself.


	2. Framed?

Draco arrived five minutes early and quickly made his way up the derelict building to flat 101. It was up a few flights of stairs and he met no one on the way, he hadn't expected to. He found it along a dark, dingy corridor, the only switched on light on the whole floor was in front of it. It flickered and hummed in protest against its pathetic and somnolent existence, couldn't someone just turn it off?

He was about to place his hand on the flat's handle when he heard a voice singing and loud footsteps. At first thought, he wondered if it was his contact but it sounded too happy and in his head a bell rang; he knew this voice... it was from his past.

The figure made it to Draco's floor and Draco lowered his wand.

'Weasley?' He asked the air. Ron looked just as confused and annoyed as he felt, Ron smirked and swaggered up to Draco.

Ron took in Draco's appearance and knew the boy hadn't changed a bit since their Hogwarts days and it made him trust Draco even less. Draco didn't have a hair out of place. His hair itself was slicked back; he wore a long black creaseless coat; a pristine, crisp, white shirt with the top button done up; a green-black tie with the auror emblem at the bottom; Ron knew he would probably have a black blazer under that coat to finish off his suit; and immaculate straight black trousers, finished off with pointy, black, shiny shoes. He couldn't have looked more like a detective if he tried; he stuck out like a dragon in a haystack in the murky, abandoned buildings.

Draco tutted when he saw Ron, he looked less like an auror and more like a criminal. He was wearing light blue jeans, ripped and faded at the knees and dirty with mud at the bottom; a plain, tight, white t-shirt with specs of food down it; an undone, black cardigan with brown patches at the elbows which was slightly too small on him; and black shoes, dull and again dirty. He looked messy and scruffy.

'What the fuck are you doing here?' Asked Ron, still smirking.

'I've got an informant who requested that they meet me here,' Draco tried a superior air but it had no effect on Ron.

Ron shook his head. Draco Malfoy wished he had informants.  
He pushed Draco out of the way and finally opened up the door but Draco pushed ahead and got in first.

'There's nothing in here,' said Draco in the darkness as Ron stood opposite him in the doorway. He walked in a couple of steps but Draco neither moved nor took his eyes off Ron.

'Let's get some light in here,' Ron announced as he saw Draco's grey eyes staring him down. Simultaneously, they both shook their wands and balls of light appeared around the room.

'Oh shit,' yelled Ron and Draco span around.

In a chair slumped a man fastened with barbed wire to it, a wizard video recorder sat on the floor besides him, blood and other human products littered the man and his surrounding area. The stench of death and misery hung in the pessimistic shadows.

'Don't touch him!' Exclaimed Ron as Draco approached the body, Ron grabbed Draco's shoulder from behind with force. Both men knew who it was; Judge Hound, a very popular and successful man who gave generous amounts of money to charities and good causes. But it was also said that he was close to the Mythe family; he was godparent to a second cousin of Helga Mythe, the matriarch and head of the family.

'What-,' started Draco but yelling stopped him.

'THIS IS AN AUROR RAID, TURN AROUND NOW AND PUT YOUR WANDS DOWN!' Screamed a voice. Ron instantly knew who it was; Harry.

'Harry,' he called and he saw Harry's face drain. A swam of aurors filed into the room all of their wands pointing at the two men, all faces were stern but some held expressions of shock and some, younger more inexperience aurors, were sick at the sight and smell in front of them.

'I said put your wands down,' his voice was still stern but Ron detected a quiver in his authority. Both men did as they were told.

'This is-,' Draco started trying to defend himself but it was no use. They were soon pushed down by other aurors and protesting was the last thing they could do.

'You are under arrest, you do not have to say anything but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,' the words smashed around the silence of the flat as both wizards were pulled to their feet and taken from the desolate crime scene.

* * *

'Bloody hell Harry, you can't seriously think I had anything to do with that, that, thing!' Ron was outraged.

'You were found near the body, wand drawn at Hound and that tape,' Harry was weary and slightly confused; he never thought that Ron would betray him or be capable of what had happened but he had grown apart from his best friend in recent months and maybe the man had changed.

'Yes?'

'Has recorded you and Malfoy torturing Hound and we've checked it, with every spell we can think of, and it's really both of your voices. And witnesses-,'

'Oh, come on!' Yelled Ron and jumped out of his chair, slamming his hands down on the desk in front of him. 'You and I both know that you can't ever truly trust a witness from Bowden, they were probably high at the time and you could bribe them to say whatever you liked for a drop of potion... it would never stand anywhere!' Ron could not see how he was being, what it looked like, charged with the torture and murder of Judge Hound when he had never even met the man or had any contact with Malfoy in recent months.

'We've checked your owling record for the past few months and already it seems that you were having a lot of contact with known criminals and Malfoy,' Ron went to protest against it but when he saw Harry's eyes, he hushed. 'Already it looks like you did it Ron. I have no choice... Ronald Weasley, I am charging you with the torture and murder of Judge James Hound on the 1st of October.'

Ron was silent.

IHAFHSAFSHD

At the same time, Draco also sat silent as he was interrogated and told pretty much the same as Ron had been. Yet Draco was more calm and composed, he saw what he was up against and that he wasn't going to get out of it. He just focused his mind on who would have tried to frame him and Weasley at the same time.

The superior auror in front of him gave a deep cough, pulling Draco back into the room.

'Draco Malfoy, I am charging you with the torture and murder of Judge James Hound on the 1st of October.'

Draco just nodded and said he understood.

As he was led out of his interview room by two aurors and to the holding cells, he could hear Weasley kicking off and yelling louder than a Hungarian Horntail.

'Jenkins, you'll be alright with Malfoy here, he won't try anything but I best go see what I can do to help with Weasley,' the elder auror said to younger Jenkins.

'Alright Davidson, I mean, sir,' he looked slightly nervous but nodded.

As they walked off, Draco could hear the spells being fired and the dragon Weasley roaring back. Jenkins halted and span around as he heard loud footsteps.

From around a corner, Weasley ran into their wide corridor. His back was to them but Draco could see he was bleeding but not heavily. Ron was wand-less, Draco noticed impressed, and screaming all types of curses.

Ron wasn't very happy about being told he was being charged for murder.

'Try firing _corruo_,' Draco said to Jenkins with a smirk. Jenkins swallowed but nodded; Draco may have been in spell-cuffs but he was a higher ranking auror who had a good reputation.

As soon as the spell hit Ron's back, he froze and the beast collapsed to the floor.

'Well done Jenkins,' chuckled Davidson deeply from the front of the auror crowd and gave him a thumbs up. Jenkins nodded shyly and turned away as other aurors ran to cuff Ron, again.

'Thanks,' he whispered into Draco's ear as they moved away.


	3. Judgement Time

Draco looked around the court. He breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm himself.

The court was filled.  
Fellow aurors, friends and (mostly Weasley) family crammed in; the media and nosey parkers took any space they could. Some even stood at the back, perched on bench ends and sat in aisle space.

Draco sat in his newest and most professional looking suit, his hair was slicked perfectly back and there was nothing out of place. He looked like a man who was going to win his case and be sipping a good glass of champagne by nightfall. But he despaired at the sight of his fellow defendant and supposed accomplice.

Ron was slouching in his chair with his feet up on the desk in front of him and a newspaper over his face, snoring lightly. But thankfully, for Draco's sanity, he was not wearing jeans. He wore a pair of black trousers too tight for him, which gave far too much detail than Draco would have liked; a white shirt, again too small for Ron, that clung to every inch of chiselled chest; his thin black tie was of a suitable long length but it sat a considerable way from his undone top button; his black shoes were scuffed and dirty; and his black blazer hung over his chair, stains on its cuffs and back. Draco thought he looked anything but prepared or suitable for such a serious occasion.

Yet Draco did, secretly, admire how cool and calm the young auror looked. Even when Draco had seen him this morning, Ron had been anything but worried or nervous. Whereas Draco knew he probably looked uptight and stiff.

This morning they had met with both of their lawyers to discuss a change in their attack. They had been going to plead not guilty but both knew they stood no chance like that; the evidence was stacked highly and steadily against them.

They now wished to alter this in hope of a lighter sentence and a shorter court case for everyone. Both aurors knew that many wouldn't want to see them kissed or locked away for life; they were two of best aurors and responsible for putting away some of the most dangerous and wanted criminals.

'All rise, the court is now in session, the Honourable Judge McToff residing,' a clear voice cut across the hum of the room. Everyone, including Ron, stood to attention and watched an elderly wizard take his seat. 'Be seated.'

'Your Honour the defendants wish to change their plea,' announced Draco's lawyer, the more experienced (and hence more expensive) lawyer of the two.

'Order,' McToff commanded as noise erupted around the room

'Very well, what is the plea?'

'Your Honour, may I approach the bench please?' Asked Draco politely and full of respect.

'Proceed Mr Malfoy,' he said with a small smile; he had known the Malfoys well before all of the death eater trouble and rumours. He still liked and respected the ancient pure-blood family.

'Your Honour, I've been an auror for ten years now and I think it's the best organisation in the country! At times I've been accused of being too aggressive when taking criminals of the streets and if that's a sin, I'm guilty,' his strong voice verged on melodramatic and many listened. 'Everyone who I've worked with are good men and women, doing a tough job. I can only hope that at the end of this trial that the whole department is not judged by what has transpired. Thank you,' he finished with a nod and took his seat back. A few claps echoed around the court.

'Do you have anything to add Mr Weasley?' Draco glared at Ron, silently ordering him to shake his head.

'Yeah,' Ron smirked.

'No,' said Draco shortly and harshly.

'Oh, yeah,' Ron nodded his head with a cocky smile.

'Mr Malfoy has spoken very eloquently and I wish I could be as forgiving. But I can't,' he paused and already the whole court hung on his every word. He had confidence and the whole room knew it. 'This whole thing fucking sucks! Bloody hell, this is the biggest pile of,'

'Order! Order! Be seated Mr Weasley,' yelled the judge as the room erupted into yells of support, whistling, clapping and general disturbance.

'Your Honour the defendants wish to plead, no contest, to a charge of voluntary wizard-slaughter,' Draco's lawyer picked back up from where he had left.

'I take it that this is part of any agreement?'

'Yes your Honour, the State will recommend a sentence not more than 18 months in a minimum-security facility.'

'Mr Malfoy and Mr Weasley you understand the plea in which you have entered and you do so of your own free will?

'Yes sir,' nodded Draco quickly

'Yes... sir,' Ron took a little longer to answer.

'Very well then, this agreement is acceptable to the court, the court directs the defence and the State to deliver the proper documentation. Court is adjourned.'

* * *

'Bloody hell, I'm glad that's all over,' sighed Ron as he lent back on his chair. Both defence and their lawyers sat in a small room, finishing up the last of the paper work that had to be done.

Draco glared at the redhead – why did he have to spend 18 months with this idiot?

'That was nothing,' he said shortly.

Ron replied nothing but tutted.

As all parties shook hands and the State prosecution left, Ron said goodbye to his lawyer.

'Thanks Reg for that,' he shook Reg's hand and gave him a hug.

'I believe, Mr Weasley, you were lucky your defence did not have to do anything for you,' piped up Draco's lawyer, William Timothy-Farquaad, when Reg had departed. 'That man knew nothing of penal or justice systems.'

'I'm not surprised,' replied Ron with a smile. 'He's a chef.'

* * *

'Oh, Ronnie!' Cried Molly as the day for the two aurors to put into prison came.

Due to the influx of death eaters after Voldemort's downfall and the destruction of Azkaban itself in a large riot on the five-year anniversary of Voldemort's death, new prisons were set up around the country, closer resembling muggle prison in structure and layout than the ancient wizard prison. But wizard prisons had strong magical charms and curses to prevent and deter outbreaks.

She flung her arms around her son and hugged him tight; only she had been allowed to see her son before he left for his new home. 'Everyone's going to miss you, Ronnie! I promise I'll write to you,' tears fell down her face at an alarming rate, Ron thought she was going to cry herself dry and shrivel up.

She pulled away for a second then flew back at her son, not wanting to ever let go of him. She knew he was innocent.

Draco shuffled awkwardly next to them; no one had come to say goodbye to him. His father had died in Azkaban during the riot when he tried to escape and his mother was too used to relatives being admitted into prison to worry about Draco. It was true that she loved her son more than any other living or dead person but she didn't worry about his safety in prison; the Malfoys were still a well connected family with illegal and legal ties across the globe.

'Oh, you poor baby,' Draco got the surprise of his life when Molly Weasley embraced him in a tight hug. 'Now, don't you worry your pretty little head, my Ronnie will take good care of you,' she gave him a wet, soppy kiss on the forehead and stroked his hair back flat on his head.

'Errr, thanks?' He had never had such an open display of public affection before and didn't really know what to do. His cold heart was touched by this woman's worry for him and he blushed slightly.

'Bye Mum, keep well,' Ron said with a lop-sided grin as she was led from the room. As a parting gift, Molly Weasley blew kisses at both boys and waved them goodbye.

* * *

'Shower, change, ten minutes,' ordered a burly guard when they arrived. They were taken to a tiny, grey shower block and made to strip.

Ron did so casually and strode naked over the shower while Draco, the more conserved of the two, was slower and more reluctant to strip. In the end, the one guard waiting on him got fed up and let him keep his boxers on.

'Ha, who showers with pants on?' Laughed Ron when Draco took up a shower one away from him and Draco slowly peeled off his pants and tried to turn away. As an only child, he wasn't used to sharing a shower with another male while Ron had grown up showering with at least two other brothers, to save water, and when he and Ginny were little, they would both share a bath to again save water.

'Hey!' Yelped Draco as Ron lent down towards him. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm getting soap! Don't flatter yourself, pee-wee,' he chuckled deeply and waved the soap in Draco's flushing face.

Draco quickly finished his shower up and rushed to get dressed. His boiler suit was red to reflect his potential dangerous risk. Yet it suddenly occurred to him that in minimum-security prisons, where they were supposed to be, everyone had a blue uniform.

'Weasley?'

'Hey,' called Ron while he strode over, still naked to Draco's embarrassment. 'While we're in this shit hole it'll be Ron and you'll be Draco... what is it?'

'These are red.'

Ron gave a sarcastic slow clap. 'Well done, Draco!'

Draco tutted and explained his point.

'Hmmm, that's what I thought.'

'What?'

'Didn't you see this place as we walked in? This is a maximum-security prison.'

'No it's not,' sneered Draco at Ron's seeming stupidity. As they had pleaded guilty (and were respected aurors) they were sentenced to time in a minimum-security prison – red overalls meant high.

Ron went to open his mouth but they were called out for.

* * *

They stood in front of two large iron gates with their "new" stained bedding folded in their hands, waiting to let into their new home.

'We're in a maximum-security prison, next thing we know we'll be in general,' Ron wasn't smiling as he spoke. Draco shook his head.

'They won't put us in general population. They never put Aurors in there.'

'There's a first time for everything,' whispered Ron.

Ron walked slightly ahead as two huge iron doors opened. A stony, cold corridor was in front of them with caged cells on either side. The cells looked crammed and filthy and they lined the walls as far as both men could see.

'Oh, so they don't put Aurors in general,' he sneered at Draco sarcastically. 'Bloody hell, I've put more than half of these guys away.'

Every piece of scrap and rubbish that the cellmates could have found was being thrown from every cell and they almost had to wade through a river of waste; they knew aurors were coming and every single inmate knew exactly what they looked like.

'You know what I hate?' Muttered Draco to Ron over the yells of abuse.

'No.'

'Litter.'

Not only did junk clutter the floors but small hand-made parchment balls of fire were being hurled at the two target aurors.

'Oh damn it!' Exclaimed Ron.

'What?' Draco turned to stare at the redhead with confusion.

'I forgot to bring the marshmallows and I could really use some right now!'


	4. Hell Begins

**_Sorry for the wait! Thanks :)_**

* * *

Ron and Draco had now been led off from the main corridor and into a labyrinth of thin corridors, cells lining every wall they passed.

'I should probably wish you luck but I think I'm going to need it all for myself,' said Ron as stared into the faces of the jeering wizards. These people made Crabbe and Goyle look like Playwizard models.

'They'll put us together,' stated Draco, trying to sound confident; Ron laughed.

'You think that after all of this, after being placed in a maximum-security prison and after being placed in general, we'll be placed in the same cell,' he mockingly wiped invisible tears from his eyes.

'What?' Snapped Draco.

'We be placed as far apart as they can manage and probably with the worst two men they can find.'

Before Draco could protest back to Ron, one of their escorts piped up.

'This way,' he yanked Ron away while Draco carried on walking.

As Draco looked back, Ron shrugged and gave him a small smile.

Now the fun would really begin.

* * *

'This is Little Dave,' grunted Ron's escort as he stopped at one particular cell. He unlocked the door and shoved Ron in before slamming the door shut and leaving.

Ron stared at the man sitting on the bottom bunk; he had a large, bulbous nose, small eyes, thin lips and a deep scar running along his jaw line from his right ear to his chin. On the whole, he was one of the ugliest people Ron had ever laid eyes on.

The cell was so thin it wouldn't have fitted a double bed in; the wall were probably once white but were now a discoloured shade of brown; there was one tiny window just below the ceiling but that was gridlocked with bars inside and out; the bunk beds had a rusted frame and both mattress had nasty looking stains on them (Ron didn't even want to start thinking about what those stains were). At the bottom of the cell, there was a tiny sink that looked like it had been made for elf use and, to Ron's surprise, two toilets - well there was something to write home about.

'That's my toilet,' grunted Ron's cell mate as they both stared at the cleanest toilet, it seemed to have a few less stains and the other one looked as though it would fall apart if a feather fell on it.

'Now, let's get one thing straight,' started Ron with quite a confident cocky voice. Then Ron's cell mate stood up.

Ron decided that the man must have been seven foot tall and as wide as Millicent Bullstrode (now that was saying something!). Maybe this was her brother or husband... well, in her family it was probably the same thing.

Dave cracked his knuckles and stared at Ron with hard, cold, emotionless eyes.

'That loo is yours,' he whimpered; he did not want to meet Big Dave if this was "little" Dave.

* * *

Draco received exactly the same treatment and only hoped that Ron was having a worse time than he was. But he found that pretty hard to believe.

He couldn't remember the way back to the main entrance corridor or even back to Ron's cell. Draco knew that if he ever had to run for his life in this place (which, given the circumstances, seemed quite likely) he would be caught in an instant. They had passed corridors which had led to dead-ends and the end walls had looked tainted a slight pink; no matter how hard you try to wash blood stains off from a white wall, they'll never fully leave.

'Perry,' stated the guard before he left.

A thin, spidery man stood directly in front of Draco and refused to move. He had a long, bony nose; tiny, chapped lips, which he kept on licking; limp brown hair in a bowl-cut style; and lanky arms that were completely out of proportion to the rest of his skeletal body.

'I killed him he was my best friend,' smiled Perry creepily, his dark eyes shone with malicious amusement – Draco didn't know if this man was going to kill or kiss him.

'Congratulations,' Draco rolled his eyes, even Ron would be better than this weirdo.

Draco stared at Perry and that creepy smile of his and realised he would never be able to sleep in this cell with that man giving him those looks - Draco thought he would either wake up stripped naked or he wouldn't wake up at all.

'Crazy people will kill anybody.'

* * *

'Good morning, dear neighbour! How are you on this fine afternoon?' Chirped an overly happy voice.

'How did you find me?' Asked Draco as he looked up from the floor to see Ron leaning on the doorframe of his cell.

'Well it's not too hard to find the only other auror in this place. They've basically put up signs leading to both of our cells... it's rather sweet actually.'

'I hate it.'

'Well, Draco, I know what, how about I complain to the manager of this,' Ron looked around at the state of his surroundings. 'Fine establishment. We'll get a refund and a discount off our next holiday with Prison Direct,' sarcasm dripped off his words.

'I hate it.'

'Bloody hell!' Ron thought he was going to strangle the blond and, in a place like this, that murder would probably help him along. 'Of course you hate it! Everyone in here hates it! But maybe I could pop out and get us some nice flowery wallpaper to brighten the place up.'

'There's no need to be like that.'

'I came here for some nice conversation, instead of having death threats yelled at me, but now I'm here, I think I might just go back and hear what these lovely death eaters over there have to say about me,' Ron turned and left.

'I-,' started Draco, in all honestly it had been nice to see someone he knew and the thought of a near-sane conversation was heavenly; he could have easily got up and called Ron back but his pride stopped him.

But then Draco heard his name being called by a voice that sounded like Ron's; the Weasel probably wanted to apologise. He got up from his bottom bunk and walked out into the corridor, he looked both ways yet Ron was nowhere to be seen.

Then it all went black.


	5. Muggle Ways

_Hello, sorry about the wait!_  
_Just a good luck for any of you collecting A-level results tomorrow, I'm sure all will go well for you :)_

* * *

Draco awoke to find that he tied up by strong wire to a wooden chair. His head ached but that was the least of his worries, his head spun with what could happen to him; he knew they wouldn't just kill him, why would they kill him when they could torture him first.

He glanced around and noticed a large, dirty vat that prisoners were filling with water. Why he didn't quite understand but he knew all would become clear very soon.

'They got you?' Whimpered Draco as he saw Ron being carried over by two bulky men with newly broken noses.

'What does it look like?' Yelled Ron through gritted teeth as the two men tried to force Ron into the chair besides him. Ron wouldn't stop fighting, no matter how much, how hard or where they punched, he kept on resisting but soon Ron was tied up.

Draco noticed how the wire cut deep gashes into Ron skin. He, himself, did not have such a problem, the wire was tight enough to keep him still and stuck in the chair but loose enough so that he could move slightly and didn't have it digging into his pale skin.

Draco looked at Ron beside him and noticed that blood stained his skin and most of his clothing; Draco wondered if it was Ron's blood or someone else's. From the state of the two men's broken noses it wasn't all Ron's blood.

'I don't know about you, but I have an aversion to getting F.U.B.A.R.,' stated Ron as he stared at the crowd of prisoners in front of him, all baying for auror blood. Draco suddenly realised that Ron hadn't been as cool and calm on the inside as he'd been showing; the cracks in his facade were beginning to show.

'What's F.U.B.A.R.?' Asked Draco in a small voice; he wasn't used to situations like this. When he had been surrounded before, he had had his wand, hadn't been tied to a chair and had more than one other person with him. And he had never been tortured before. He, personally, had no idea how to get out _alive_.

'Fucked-up beyond all recognition.'

Draco went to respond but Ron cut across him.

'I can guess what they're going to do to us and I think I know how to get out,' he said in a commanding and serious tone; Draco again went to reply but Ron cut across him in a loud voice.

'Oh look it's the welcoming committee, we've got a surprise party! Where's the nibbles?' Asked Ron. He shot Draco a "play-along" look.

'No, I wouldn't call this a surprise party. Erm, don't panic,' Draco had no idea as to what role he should be playing.

One man pushed his way through the crowd that surrounded the two chairs.

'You got a pretty face, Malfoy, how about I change it?' Cackled a stout man whose nose was so flat against his face, it looked like someone had smashed his face in with a spade. His voice was a grating American drawl.

'I'll make your throat into a pretty little tie,' he smirked as he looked across to Ron.

'I don't wear ties, he does,' said Ron, like they were shopping on a Saturday afternoon, but Draco could see sweat trickling down his face.

'Don't panic,' repeated Draco as he heard a slight note of dread in Ron's voice; he hoped the dread was fake, for effect, yet when he glanced sideways at Ron's eyes, it didn't seem to fake. Maybe Ron had just said he had a plan to reassure Draco.

'BLOODY HELL, COME ON THEN RIP MY FUCKING HEAD OFF. I DON'T WANNA BE KILLED BY THIS TWATY AMERICAN. YOU WANNA CUT MY THROAT, GO BLOODY AHEAD! OR MAYBE YOU'D LIKE TO CUT MY FUCKING HEAD OFF AND USE IT FOR A BLUDGER?! THAT'S FINE BY ME. AND, SO YOU CAN WORK ON YOUR CUSTOMER SERVICE HERE AT BEATINGS-FOR-YOU, I'D RATHER GET KILLED BY AN ENGLISH ARSEHOLE THAN AN AMERICAN ARSEHOLE! Thanks... I needed that,' he added after his outburst. Draco knew now that the relaxed air Ron had had before was just an act; Ron was just as scared as he was.

Ron received a forceful punch in the face and Draco thought he heard the crunch of bone; blood began to trickle down from Ron's nose.

'Well, we'll start with you first then,' the American smirked and whistle over three muscular men.

The next thing Draco knew, Ron was hanging above the vat of water with the metal wire holding his arms tightly to his sides.

'Thanks guys, you've run me a bath, how sweet of you!' Called Ron to the crowd.

Draco was still clueless.

They began to lower Ron down into the water until only his neck and head were above the water line. Maybe they would drown him and then pull him up before he died and repeat that process until he actually died? Draco didn't know what was going to happen to the other auror but from the look on Ron's face, who said he knew what was going to happen, it wasn't going to pleasant.

Long tubes that had been lacing the floor were picked up and had their ends placed into the water. The American stood by a small box, that all of the cables led back to; his hand hovered over a small flick switch.

Draco noticed that he looked at one figure hiding in the shadows. He couldn't make out the face but he noticed the man was wearing a suit; he wasn't a prisoner. The man seemed to nod and the American flicked the switch on.

Ron seemed to jump alive and his face contorted in pure pain. Draco had never heard a scream so full of raw torment, even when he had had to watch his Aunt Bellatrix torture muggle borns. Draco felt sick.

The American flicked the switch back and Ron went still - his eyes seem to glaze over and he hung limp, there was no sarcastic remark or joke.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat; he had no idea as to what had just happened to Ron but he knew that it had been more agonising than any Crucio curse he had even seen used.

The figure in the dark nodded and again the switch was flicked.

Ron screamed again and violently writhed in his wire chains; Draco could almost see the wire piercing deeper into Ron's skin and he knew Ron would be scarred with those marks for a very long time - that was if he made it through this.

Draco suddenly heard a loud thumping and the charge of heavy boots. Guards.

The prisoners suddenly scattered in every direction and Draco could only watch as the suited figure limped off into the darkness.

* * *

Ron had been in the medical wing of the prison for two weeks now and for all Draco knew, he could have died. Draco wasn't allowed to see Ron and none of the guards would tell him anything.

The guards kept a more watchful eye on Draco during mealtimes but the prisoners didn't try anything like they had before. Draco kept himself to himself and would never retort to anything the other prisoners said or did. Pretty soon, he found that the only conversation he could have was with Perry and his sock "friends" who, Draco thought, were more sane than the man who controlled them.

'I think you've gotten more ugly since I last saw you!'

Draco looked up to the doorway, a strange feeling of déjà vu washed over him.

There stood Ronald Weasley leaning against the metal door-frame while he sat in the bottom bunk looking at the floor. This time, though, Ron had a deep scar on his left cheek and grim marks chiselled into his muscular arms.

A lop-sided grin brightened up his marked face, all in all if you forgot about the marks he seemed the same.

Draco just stared at Ron, taking in the fact that he was alive and didn't seem too harmed by the experience.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, I'm fine. I've still got everything, if you know what I mean,' he winked at Draco, who gave a small smile back.

'What did they do to you?'

'And to think I went through all of that and you didn't even watch me,' Ron put on a mocking tone, like a child who had just realised that his father hadn't been watching his Quidditch match when he had just scored the winning hoop.

'I saw but I didn't know what it was,' Draco had always been confident in the fact that he knew, basically, everything and now Ron, their school year's clown, knew something he didn't.

Ron stepped into the cell and sat down on the other end of the bed; he then leant against its metal frame and put his long legs up. Draco glared at Ron's feet.

'Sorry, someone's a bit touchy,' and put his feet back on the floor.

'What did they do to you?' Draco asked putting them back on topic and off his cleanliness obsession.

'You know that here there is limited magic, most of the guards are squibs or have very little magical power. So the prisoners have to use muggle ways to torture, maim and kill each other. I'll put it simply for your ignorant pure-blooded head; those tubes on the floor,' Draco glared at Ron for the insult but nodded at the memory of the tubes that had snaked across the floor. 'They were full of electricity. Now electricity doesn't get on with water and so when you put them together they, err,' Ron didn't quite know how to put what had happened to him in terms that Draco might grasp. 'Create energy?' Ron wasn't really sure that his explanation was 100% muggle correct but Draco would never know. 'And so when I was put into the water, the energy went through me and gave me a rather nasty jolt.'

'I thought muggles use electricity to do stuff.'

'Yeah but it can also be lethal when you want it to be,' Ron didn't think Draco quite understood the form of torture but he seemed to get the basics.

There was a silence between the two men.

'Why are you here?' Asked Draco.

'To remind myself that there is some more ugly than myself here,' he smirked.

'Seriously.'

'Look, while I was in the medical wing, I managed to get an owl out and we've got a meeting.'

'With who?'

'It doesn't matter. I'll be here to collect you later.'

Without giving Draco a time or any more explanation, Ron left.


	6. Only Option

_Just another message like last week - Good Luck to any of you collecting GCSE results tomorrow, I'm sure it'll all be fine :D_

* * *

'You're coming with me.'

'What? But it's dinner!' Draco had never known Ronald Weasley to avoid eating.

'Remember what I told you,' he whispered into Draco's ear.

'Okay, alright!' He rolled his eyes and dumped his tray back down, shuffling out of the canteen queue and away from all of the food. His stomach rumbled a small protest that Ron didn't seem to hear.

Draco just followed as Ron strode down corridors, taking one turn after another. He wondered how Ron knew where he was going and if he knew how to get back because Draco had lost track of how many lefts and rights and in what order they had taken them in long ago.

'Are we there yet?' Draco complained.

'Nearly,' Ron didn't even look back.

They had reached a dead-end corridor which had no cells; Ron just walked to the end and stood there.

'You're lost?'

'No, we're here,' said Ron, Draco was looking for the sarcastic smile or tone in Ron's voice but he was being serious.

'It's good to see you!' Ron suddenly exclaimed and seemed to be looking at Draco.

He walked towards a confused Draco smiling but as he got to Draco, he pushed him out of the way. Draco turned around to see Ron embracing a seemingly random man who had appeared from nowhere.

'Who's this?' Asked Draco as he looked at a chubby, squat man who looked shabbier than Ron did, something Draco believed was nigh impossible.

'One of my best mates, Stan Moorcroft,' smiled Ron as he stood next to the short man.

Draco couldn't think of a worse situation to be in; in a maximum-security prison having put 95% of the population away, needing the loo, not having seen a mirror, nor had a decent bath in days and now he stuck in some lovey-dovey reunion. This was almost as bad as being tied to a chair watching Ron get tortured; Draco hated being the third wheel.

'Who set you up?' Stan asked, his voice gruff as his stubble.

Ron shrugged. 'I thought you might have some idea,' but the man shook his head.

'Look I think we both know you were framed except we can't prove a bloody thing while you're in here. This whole place is... well, to be frank, is fucked. My view is you only got once choice,' both men waited for the answer. 'Escape!'

'Oh great, I'll get the cutlery and we'll be out of here in no time,' glared Draco; no one had ever escaped from this place and with the level of security, it was highly doubted anyone would and make it out alive.

'What's up with him?' Asked Stan, his head tilted to the right as he looked at Draco.

'He's upset, he hasn't got a mirror.' Draco shot daggers at Ron, huffed and looked away. 'Oh, sorry and his wardrobe!'

'How do we do it?'

'I got a plan, just listen-.'

'How can we trust him?' Asked Draco suspiciously, still looking away.

'I've known him for ten years.'

'Well, look what happened when we trusted people before,' said Draco as he thought back to his lawyer assuring him that they would have a nice, cushy sentence that would be like a holiday. This was far from any holiday Draco had ever been on.

'That's different; I'm asking you to trust me,' Draco turned and looked Ron in his sparkling blue eyes. He saw Ron was serious and determined.

'Now, that's a risky proposition,' yet after some deliberation, Draco nodded; he didn't have a plan to get out and Ron seemed to – what else could he lose?

'I got a present,' Stan gave a dirty, low chuckle and pulled out a map. 'This place runs like a muggle prison since Azkaban prisoners used to draw on the magic that it used and turn it into nasty curses. They've got a network of ventilation shafts that run all over this place. Now, I can shut off one fan and leave it open, they'll never noticed the different. You'll have to go this way,' Stan's fingers traced out a route as both nodded and watched his stubby fingers; they knew how to follow orders and had been memorising plans for years. 'I'll leave the tools behind the work shed, but for now,' Stan hugged Ron again and in a blink was gone again.

'I do miss my mirror... and my wardrobe!' Draco muttered under his breath.

* * *

'I'm not going,' asserted Draco, like a stubborn toddler, his arms folded and his eyes to the floor as he sat on his bottom bunk. He had been thinking over this plan that they had been given and had thought of thousands of flaws; they had to take so many chances and Draco didn't like taking risks. Slytherins played it safe and secure, they didn't just charge head first without a thought, like stupid Gryffindors did.

'This is my fiancée,' from nowhere Perry appeared and snuggled up to Draco, who froze in disgust.

'You're a-,' started Ron, who was stood opposite Draco.

'Yeah, I love you too,' muttered Draco, not allowing Ron to finish his abuse.

'I hope you're a very happy couple,' spat Ron as he left.

'Bye, bye, come to the wedding!' Called Perry down the corridor.

* * *

Two days later Draco was on cleaning yard duty, he knew this would be the day that Ron, and Ron alone, would try and make his escape.

He paused sweeping as he saw Ron sneak away to the direction of the back of the tool shed. With a shake of his head, he carried on his given chore.

Thunder rolled over head, making Draco look up.

'This is not going to end well.'


	7. Great Escape?

The rain lashed down like a Cat O'Nine Tails whipping into Ron's flesh. His prison uniform was no comfort in this weather. Wind rushed past his ears, making him deaf. Dark clouds bruised the sky, thunder roared its screams. Ron's hair clung to his face and his uniform was no comfort in this weather but he continued onward.

The tools Stan had given him enabled him to a lower roof of the prison unseen but now he had to renter the building if he wanted to make the final part of his journey.

Ron tried to open a steel door in front of him. It wouldn't budge.

'Bloody hell,' he yelled against the force of the storm.

He rammed his left shoulder at the door and then he tried even harder with his right.

'Shit,' he exclaimed as he felt his shoulder rip apart. He tenderly touched his muscle and gasped. He bit his tongue and pressed harder but the pain didn't shoot through as badly this time. It was probably a torn muscle but nothing serious. Certainly not something that would stop him from continuing.

He changed back to his left shoulder, stepped a few paces away from the door and breathed deeply.

'One... two... three!' Ron ran as hard as he could side onto the door with all of his might.

With a large thud, the door opened and he crashed through, landing hard on the concrete floor.

Ron froze. His eyes couldn't believe what lay next to him; he wasn't meant to be here.

A pale corpse lay twisted with his throat slit, the blood congealed on the uniform. Ron put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming and gagging. The stench that filled the room would forever haunt him.

He slowly stood up shaking, his eyes not leaving those of the dead man's.

The sound of guards hunting him down brought him back to reality; he could suddenly now hear the sound of alarms. Against the sound of the storm, he had heard nothing.

His friend was dead but he couldn't do anything to stop that now. He could only find out who had killed him and avenge his death.

The room itself was tiny and only contained the body. A smaller door was the only way on.

He closed his friend's eyelids as a mark of respect and carried on through the door, water dripping a trail behind him.

A metal staircase curled upwards in front of him, leading to one faded green door.

With nowhere else to head, he raced up them.

This room was much the same as the last but there were two fans in the middle and the escape door was the other side up a small slope. He had to get through the fans to leave.

Just as Stan had said, he had managed to get one turned off. Ron climbed through this one and up the slope to the door.

'Not again!' Ron had pushed the bar down to open the door and it wouldn't release.

'Bloody hell,' he yelled as the off-fan started back up.

This certainly was not the plan.

Both fans began to pick up speed and Ron felt the force of the fan's pulling him in.

His wet shoes began to slip down the slope and he soon found himself on the floor, unable to get up. He was sliding towards certain doom. He managed to grab up with his long arms to reach the bar on the door but he couldn't hold on with his right arm.

'Shit,' he whispered as he clung onto the bar; it was the only thing that was stopping him from being sliced up by the large fans. His wet left hand couldn't get the grip to hold his weight, his fingers began to slide down and he inched closer towards the manic fans.

Ron finally lost his grip for the bar.

With a metallic thud, the door above him was flung open and a wooden handle appeared. Just as he was a foot away from the carving fans, Ron grabbed hold of it and was pulled out of the room and into the rain.

'What are you doing here?'

Ron almost laughed at the sight of Draco standing above him, leaning on a muggle broom.

'I got lonely,' he shrugged and held out his hand to help Ron up.

Both men nodded at each other, both silently thanking the other and glad of their presence. Breaking out the highest security prison in the UK isn't something you want to really do by yourself.

'I thought this door was meant to be open and those fans certainly weren't meant to on,' yelled Draco over the storm 'What happened to Stan?'

'They cut his throat from ear to ear, he did nothing wrong!' Ron screamed in anguish as they stormed through the pelting rain, Ron silently vowing to get whoever caused Stan's murder.

'They must have known that we were going to escape, you couldn't have done anything,' Ron didn't look at Draco but stared on ahead, a dead look in his eyes.

They both stopped as their building came to an end.

'You're going to love this, best ride in the park,' Ron said, trying to put some humour into his voice but Draco could still hear the grief.

'Is this the only way?' Draco peered over the edge and felt sick rising in his throat. His eyes followed the wire from the edge of their building to the floor; the line just missed the prison's double razor-lined fences, as if they would ever make that... alive!

'No, we could go back!' Ron smiled as he seized Draco and grabbed hold of the make-shift zip wire, pushing them both off. Draco clung onto Ron's soaking wet body with all his might.

Draco shut his eyes and only opened them when he landed with a thud onto the wet grass outside of the prison.

'Run,' ordered Ron; they weren't safe yet.

A thick forest surrounded the complex but Ron seemed to know where to head. Draco struggled to keep up with Ron's long strides but as he was going to ask Ron if they could stop for a break, he saw Ron halt ahead.

Draco sped up to stand by Ron. They had hit a crossroads.

Muggle cars raced up and down the roads and a small cafe's lights flickered opposite.

'I guess this is it then,' Ron said, not looking at the blond beside him.

'Yeah, it seems like it.'

'I'm going to head back and find out who murdered Stan. I have to find out why I was framed.'

'Well, if you ever need me go to the club, The Iron Lady, you know it?'

Ron nodded; it was a well known wizard club in London famous for its beautiful and talented singers.

'And ask for Nemesis Nyx, she's a singer there. She'll know how to find me.'

The men turned to face each other and shook hands.

And with that, they went their separate ways.


	8. Nemesis Nyx

Finding the audio expert, who had supplied the fake tapes, was easier than Ron had imagined. Using old (and rather fishy) contacts, they had soon given him the name and address of the man whom you would need if you wanted to fake audio or visual evidence, tapes worthy of standing up in any court.

'Duncan Camilleri,' he muttered under his breath as he made his way through the streets of London. He threw the hood up of his black jumper as he made his way towards his target.

Duncan lived, as most of the small-time crooks do, in a small and dark flat off the side of a besmirched alleyway. The door to the block was left open and it's glass panels had been smashed in, muggle lights flickered pathetically trying to keep the darkness at bay.

Ron made his way up the central flight of stairs until he reached the third level and branched off into Camilleri's corridor.

When he reached Flat 33, he rapped hard on the door twice and waited for a reply. He heard the metallic slide of locks and bolts, suddenly heavy dubstep music blasted into the corridor.

'Yes?' Camilleri seemed to say, his voice wrapped in a lisp and hidden beneath the drop of bass.

Ron gave the boy a smile and quickly made his way in; Camilleri was nothing compared to Ron's strength, built up by his love of Quidditch and his job. Ron slammed the door shut and Camilleri down onto the floor.

Camilleri lunged for his wand, which he had stupidly left behind when he had gone to answer the door, but Ron was quicker and snapped it in two.

Ron pointed to his ears then made a slitting motion over his neck - he wanted the music off.

Camilleri rushed to obey the order.

'That's much better,' Ron gave a wicked smile as Camilleri used his desk to pull himself to his feet.

Camilleri's flat was more a bed sit. There was one door, which must have lead to a tiny bathroom, his kitchen was nothing more than a filthy oven and his bed doubled as his lounge. The only thing of size was his desk, covered in both muggle and wizi-tapes alike, strewn with metallic discs (which Ron knew to be called "CDs") and a hefty collection of takeaway boxes. The wall above was covered in screens of all shapes and sizes.

'I'm glad this place is soundproof, that way no one can hear me beating the shit out of you,' Ron growled at the man, who had faked the footage of him and Draco torturing and killing Judge Hound.

Duncan Camilleri had thick, black square glasses, flatten down side-combed greasy black hair and almost white skin. He was the complete stereotype of a weedy nerd.

'I know what you did,' Camilleri snivelled and shuffled nervously, pushing his glasses up his nose.

'I-,' Ron cut across the nervous whisper.

'I see you've got all my greatest hits,' Ron growled as he caught sight of his own face on one of the wizi-tapes. He clicked it and it began to play, he spotted another and it began to play; he did this until the small bedsit was filled with Judge Hound's screams and calls for mercy.

'No-,' started Camilleri.

'Oh and Draco's, but I wouldn't listen to those if I were you. Burst your eardrums,' he called over the torturous noise. With a swift movement of his hand, the noise stopped.

Camilleri whimpered.

'So,' Ron leaned in close to Camilleri's sweating face. 'Are you going to tell me who paid you to do this or not?'

* * *

The Iron Lady was nearly full; each table was surrounded by chairs, every wizard and witch laughing and waiting for the next act. It was a Friday night and this was _the_ place to be seen; it was sexy, classy and elegant. Anyone who was anybody was seen here. Ron was glad he had taken a suit from Camilleri before coming here. Not all of the buttons on the shirt would do up but that gave Ron the perfect opportunity to show off his Keeper's body and the black trousers were tighter than he would have preferred but again, his well-toned legs were clearly visible.

Ron headed straight for the bar; bartenders knew everything and would certainly know where Nemesis Nyx was.

Ron ordered a Dying Dragon before asking about the singer.

'Do you know where I can find Nemesis Nyx?' He didn't have to raise his voice; the lights began to dim and the audience hushed in anticipation.

'She's just about to perform,' smiled the bartender, Ron swivelled around on his stool to face to stage.

The room became silence as she was announced, patrons reclined slightly back in their seats knowing full well what was coming.

A cold, clear voice penetrated the hush and Nemesis Nyx swayed onto the stage, her blue eyes piercing straight to the heart of anyone watching, men and women alike were under her spell.

Her song was a slow, powerful ballad but she could have sang anything and entranced the whole audience. She held them captive as her hips swayed to the low bass.

She was a tall, slim woman with snow-white skin, her long blonde hair gently caressed her back. Her backless dress was a deep, dark blue and the material clung to every inch of her skin, as she moved it revealed a long slit from the floor to the very top of her thighs.

Ron had to put his drink back down on the bar, in fear of dropping it. His eyes tracked her as she made her way through the tables, necks craned as far as they could in order to follow her swaying hips.

She snaked past Ron and, managing to stay on his seat, he gave her his lop-sided grin, which never failed to charm the ladies (well, that's what he said anyway). He was rewarded by the smallest of winks as she circled back to her stage. And all too soon, her alluring voice sung out the last notes and, giving a small bow, she departed the stage with every pair of eyes still on her.

Ron finished off his drink, slammed the glass down on the table and allowed his eyes to wonder around the room.

'Shit,' he hissed under his breath; the place was filled with bloody aurors, if he made the wrong stepped, they would be on him and he would be thrown back into prison and have no hope of proving his innocence. Luckily, their gaze were fixed on the stage and not the bar, but Ron didn't know how many of them there were or their current whereabouts.

As a troop of curvaceous brunettes strode onto stage, their red corsets clashing with the darkness of the club, his blue eyes flitted around the dim room and settled on a door marked "performers only". He had to find Nemesis Nyx and get her to get him out of his club and to wherever Draco was... unless this was a trap to get him caught - he quickly let the latter idea drift out of his head.

He had only taken a couple of steps down the restricted corridor when a burly bouncer stepped out from the shadows.

'Can't you read? That door said "performers only",' his gruff voice suggested he was a very heavy smoker, that and the fact he held a cigarette between his fingers.

'It's okay, Dave,' a pale, feminine hand placed itself delicately on the man's shoulder and he visible relaxed into the woman's touch. 'He's with me,' her voice was unmistakeable - Nemesis Nyx.

She said nothing but beckoned Ron to follow.

When they were finally out of Dave's sight, Nemesis Nyx stopped and span around to Ron, a small smile playing on her lips.

'You came sooner than Draco said you would,' Ron said nothing to her but smiled.

'Do you not know who I am?' She asked, her smile widening, as she noticed Ron looking her up and down. Ron's only thoughts was that this wasn't Draco's woman... not that it would matter to Ron if she was.

'I wish I did,' Ron's voice became deeper and gruffer than usual, in the hope of charming this woman.

'I'm Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother,' Ron's mouth dropped open and no sound would come out; he just stared.

'Fuck off,' his voice was strained in disbelief; this could not be someone's Mum, no, it just was not possible.

MILF was an understatement.

She gave a low chuckle.

'You can call me Cissy if you like,' Ron gave a small cough and tried to regain composure.

'Come,' she called again and Ron followed her with a small smirk as he was mesmerised by her hips.

'Look there's got to be some way that you can get me out of here without being seen,' Ron regained his voice and purpose as they entered the main dressing room, filled with beautiful women of all shapes and sizes changing for their next acts. He allowed his eyes to wander around packed room.

'Excuse me,' smirked Narcissa and Ron brought his eyes back to her, giving her his lop-sided grin. She gave a light, charming chuckle, it cut through the general sounds of the dressing room. 'I think I've got just the way.'

Ron was suspicious of the twinkle that appeared in her eyes; he wasn't going to like this.

* * *

'Come on Roxy,' called Narcissa from under her helmet. Out of the side of the dingy club, Ron stepped out in four inch clear, plastic heels and a v-necked red dress. His red-hair was replaced with a long, brown wig, his face was plastered in make-up and he was doused in cheap, knock-off perfume.

'Get your hands off my girl,' Narcissa yelled as one of the off-duty bouncer's slapped Ron's arse. The other two guards gave low, sleazy chuckles.

'Any chance of a three-way?' Smirked another and as Ron climbed on the motorbike behind Narcissa, he blew the men a flirty kiss.

The motorbike roared off into the night.


	9. Commander

_**Aaaah, Friday 13th!**_

* * *

'Nice place,' complimented Ron as he walked through the door of Narcissa's home.

'Oh, it's only our small city place, Draco and I share use of it for when we're in the City. I've been using it more since I retook my job at The Iron Lady.'

This house was much smaller the Malfoy Mansion being in the middle of London. It was, obviously, more expensively decorated and larger than Ron's family home. The open plan living room laid out into a galley-styled kitchen, seemingly made completely of marble; white marble adorned the floor and a deep black covered the work surfaces.

The living room only contained a long, white leather sofa; two grand looking armchairs either side of a stone chess board; with the main focus of the room being a large fireplace. Overall the room, being actually quite modern, still managed to remind Ron of a traditional, old country mansion.

'Please, take a seat,' smiled Narcissa as she lead Ron into the main living room.

'I'd rather I got changed thanks,' Ron replied with a small chuckle, signalling down to his long red dress. As he did so, he gasped.

'Shit.'

'Oh, what's the matter?' Asked Narcissa, in a kind tone.

'I think I did something to my shoulder during the escape,' he said as she advanced towards him.

'You poor boy,' she whispered and allowed one of her hands to caress the painful shoulder to which he gave a sharp intake of breath. 'Now, I insist,' she said and backed slightly away. 'Lie down,' Ron gave her a quizzical look. 'I trained as a masseuse.'

Ron wasn't sure that was the complete truth but he wasn't going to refuse a massage from a good-looking woman, even if she was old enough to be his mother - she didn't certainly didn't look it.

'Take off the dress,' she commanded.

Ron undid the zip at the side and allowed the dress to pool at his feet.

He now stood in front of her only in his boxers, Narcissa raised an eyebrow and gave a small smirk but said nothing.

Ron lay on the sofa and she straddled his back.

'I do hope my hands aren't too cold.'

Even though it was his shoulder in pain, Narcissa worked gently on his back, smoothing out tension and stress he didn't know he had.

'Harder,' he moaned, more an order than a request. Narcissa did as she was asked.

'Harder,' he repeated and she added more pressure.

'Fuck yes,' Ron tried to arch his back into her touch.

'WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!' Yelled a voice.

Narcissa's head sharply turned to the doorway of the room; all Ron could do was try to raise his head.

'It was just a massage,' called Ron to the angry intruder.

'OH SURE. WELL FROM HERE IT LOOKS LIKE MY MOTHER IS RIDING YOU WEASLEY.'

Narcissa moved off of Ron and stood up, slower than her Ron got up and gave his arms a small stretch. He saw Draco staring daggers into him, his face flushed with fury.

'Thanks Love,' said Ron with a small wink to Narcissa, just to annoy Draco.

'Well, she wasn't, ahem, "riding" me, trust me there would have been a lot more noise from her if she were,' said Ron with a low chuckle.

'You did not just say that,' whispered Draco dangerously.

Ron said nothing but gave a cheeky smirk at Draco.

Draco launched at Ron but Ron was the quicker one, even with his damaged shoulder.

He managed to sit on Draco, holding the blond's hands by his head.

'Now it looks like I'm the one straddling you,' he whispered in Draco's ear, giving him a sly wink, and somehow Draco's face reddened more.

Ron got off Draco, who laid on the floor for a few seconds more trying to regain composer.

'Mother,' he said with a nod to the older woman.

'Draco,' she said.

'I apologise for my earlier outburst.'

'It's fine Draco, I need a shower so I'll leave you boys.'

Ron watched her sway out of the room.

'You can take your eyes off of her, she's my Mother for Merlin's sake!'

'Just because you want me all to yourself.' Retorted Ron and Draco struggled to hide his annoyance.

'What are you doing here?' Draco asked, trying to change the subject.

'Well you said if I ever need you to-,'

'I get that part,' interrupted Draco, not wanting to go over the recent events.

'I found the guy who faked those wizi-tapes,' Ron said, sitting down in one of the armchairs near to the fire - only still in his boxers, he needed its warmth.

'Who?'

'A nobody by the name of Duncan Camilleri.'

'And?' Draco cut it again.

'He gave me the name of the person who paid him to do it-,'

'Who?'

'I was just about to-,' Ron was interrupted again but this time by a hard, commanding knock at the door.

Both fugitives looked at each other in silence; they heard the shower turn off and Narcissa, dressed only in a towel, rush down the stairs.

'Just coming!' She called to the door and motioned for the boys to move from the front door's eyeline.

'Hello?' They heard her say. There was no response.

'Oh! Gwaine! It's lovely to-,' she stopped talking as a man pushed past her.

'Where is Malfoy?' A gruff voice asked.

'He's not-,'

'BOY,' yelled Gwaine, he charged into the living room before either man could hide.

Gwaine made his way over to Draco, Ron was expecting Gwaine to floor the blond, but instead he pulled him into a rough hug.

'Good to know you're alright, heard about the escape, nice one,' Gwaine quickly released a stunned Draco from his embrace. 'You must be Weasley?' He held out his hand for Ron to shake, which he quickly accepted. 'Heard you're a good Auror.'

'This is my commander, Gwaine Larsson,' stumbled out Draco, still in shock from the hug.

Draco's commander was a tall man but slim in stature; he had dark stubble along his chin and jaw line; wavy black hair that finished just above his shoulders; dark eyes, that seemed constantly amused, and thick eyebrows. His voice was rough and deep, obviously intensified by his smoking habit; a cigarette hung limply from the corner of his mouth and a spare was tucked in behind his ear.

'What are you-,' Draco began; Ron noticed Narcissa slink off upstairs and part of his mind wondered if he should follow.

Gwaine settled himself down into one of the armchairs and took a long drag on his cigarette.

'You got any leads yet?' He said, ignoring Draco's previous question.

Ron glanced at Draco, not knowing if he could fully trust this man; he had heard of Gwaine, he was a man highly regarded by the men who worked under him but was not liked much by those in higher stations. But Draco quickly nodded - he trusted his Commander with more than his life.

'I found the guy who made the wizi-,'

'Yeah, just cut the shit,' Gwaine said.

Ron gave a small smile; he already liked Gwaine.

'He was paid by a man named Joe Cockcroft.'

'Ah,' was Gwaine's first response.

'You know I shouldn't be doing this,' his voice tried to be serious but his eyes suggested that he didn't care what he should or shouldn't be doing. Gwaine had never been one to follow orders fully, in his mind rules were only made to be bent. 'That man, Joe Cockcroft, was also a fellow guest of that lovely institution you recently stayed at but he was released soon after you escaped and this is the address he gave to us,' he added over a small piece of folded parchment. 'He's a nasty piece of work, short arse with one ugly nose. We call him Spade-face.'

'He's American right?' Asked Draco, knowing from the rather crude description who Cockcroft was, Gwaine nodded.

'Oh,' smirked Ron. 'My old American friend, I can't wait to see him again.'

'Together?'

'What?' Ron shook his head slightly in confusion.

'We go to this guy together? He's obviously not the brains of our framing, he just scared that Camilleri guy and paid him off.'

Ron didn't need to think about it.

'Sure... together,' he added after a pause.

'What is it?' Narcissa asked as she reappeared in the living room. Draco just turned and looked at her.

'Mother, I-,' but that was as far as he got; Narcissa could read her son faultless.

'No. Just No.'

'I-,'

'No, Draco! There's no way I'm having your run off again!'

'But-,'

'You don't contact me for months-,'

'In Malfoy's defence he had been in prison,' Ron tried to add in but neither Narcissa or Draco seemed to hear him. 'I think my boxers are riding into the unknown,' he added loudly.

Mother and son continued to argue.

'Well into the unknown,' Ron remarked even louder. He shrugged his shoulders, knowing this fight wasn't going to end soon, and sat in the other armchair opposite Gwaine.

'Do you smoke?' Asked Gwaine, offering a box of cigarettes to Ron.

Ron sat in a free chair next to Gwaine.

'No,' Ron replied as he took a cigarette from the box.


End file.
